It turns out I have Tom Jones Syndrome. My doctor says it's not unusual.
Doc: That sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome!"
Billy: Is that common?
Doc: Well, It's Not Unusual!
Confused as to who it could be, he gets up and opens the door to find the county sheriff standing there.
'Why, hello sir,' he says, 'what can I do for ya this fine evening?'
'I'll get straight to the point,' the sheriff replies, 'I know you've been huntin' grizzlies in these here parts, and that's against the law!'
'Huh? I ain't been huntin' no grizzlies, sheriff,' the hunter replies, 'I been mainly focusin' on them deers i swear!'
The sheriff, not believing the hunter, insists on searching the cabin, with the hunter reluctantly letting him in. Upon his search, the sheriff finds multiple sets of the limbs of grizzly bears, providing all the evidence he needs to arrest the hunter.
The next day, the sheriff is approached at his desk by the hunter's lawyer as well as an FBI officer. Noting this as unusual he stands to greet them.
'I'm gonna have to ask you to let my client go,' the lawyer says.
'Why?' The sheriff stammered
The FBI agent interjects, 'You have violated the Constitution of the United States in imprisoning this hunter. The remains in his possession were all front legs of the grizzly bears, and as such, you have infringed upon his second amendment right to bear arms.'
'It's not unusual.'
Don’t worry there are plenty of other people with it, It’s Not Unusual
I'm Australian, in Australia, specifically southern Australia. Very specifically, southern Victoria. Anyway. I took a long drive on Friday, out to Halls Gap, which is a beautiful part of the world. Oddly, I noticed along the way a significant amount of dead crows on the side of the road. Now I'm of county stock, and I know well that crows (although technically ravens I believe) are an extraordinarily intelligent bird, and it's very rare that you see one fallen by the roadside. As such, it was obvious to me as unusual. So I looked it up, and as it happened there'd been a study conducted regarding the very road I'd driven down. Turns out, this particular road was notorious for dead crows on account of two very basic reasons, the first, it's proximity to bushland which ensured a considerable amount of regular road kill (possums, kangaroos, etcetera) and second, the road was a significant trucking route. It follows logic, although I did not see it at the time, that it was determined that the trucks, rather than the cars which used the road were to blame regarding the amount of dead crows. How so, you ask? I, too, was interested to know. You see, the front of the average car in these modern times is made of plastic and paint whereas the Australian cross-country truck is equipped with a large alloy bullbar. A crow, when hit by a car will have chips of paint transferred onto its feathers whereas one downed by a truck will have none. Now crows are not usually struck by vehicles, as they are a very intelligent bird. As such, they employ a sentry bird, which looks out as the others eat from the road, and warns them of any approaching danger. Such is the intelligence of the crows! So why should they perish by truck in such numbers? The answer amazed me. As it turns out, a sentry crow sees the approaching vehicle and calls to his friends CAR! CAR! CAR! but he can't say truck
She wasn’t unusual, nor was the travel bag she carried, except for one thing. She would approach people who were sitting on the beach, glance around, then speak to them.
Generally, the people would respond negatively and she would wander off, but occasionally someone would nod and there would be a quick exchange of money for something she carried in her bag.
The couple assumed she was selling drugs and debated calling the cops, but since they didn’t know for sure they just continued to watch her.
After a couple of weeks the wife asked, “Honey, have you ever noticed that she only goes up to people with boom boxes and other electronic devices?”
He hadn’t and said so. Then she said, “Tomorrow I want you to get a towel and our big radio and go lie out on the beach. Then we can find out what she’s really doing.”
Well, the plan went off without a hitch, and the wife was almost hopping up and down with anticipation when she saw the girl talk to her husband and then leave. The man walked up the beach and met his wife at the road. “Well, is she selling drugs?” she asked excitedly.”
“No, she’s not.” he said, enjoying this probably more than he should have.
“Well, what is it, then?” his wife fairly shrieked.
The man grinned and said. “Her name is Sally and she’s selling batteries.”
“Batteries?” cried the wife.
“Yes,” he replied. “She sells C cells by the Seashore.”
Well, It's Not Unusual.
McCoy says, "What is it, Jim?"
Kirk replies, "I can't stop singing 'Delilah' and 'The Green Green Grass of Home'. What's wrong with me?"
McCoy doesn't even stand up. "You've got 'Tom Jones Syndrome', Jim."
Kirk looks shaken, "Dear God. Is it rare?"
McCoy smiles, "It's not unusual."
John Deavensmit was not having a good time. After an incident involving a coffee spill, he'd been sued for $50 million, and somehow the jury had ruled against him. There was no way he could pay that much money; he'd go bankrupt.
Naturally, he filed for an appeal, but the winner of the case was already beginning to hound him for money, hoping to get at least something before the judgement was overturned. John was nearly at his wit's end before he found an unusual package in his mailbox.
It was from a couple of his friends, who all went on to law school when John left to create a startup. They'd all been very successful, and had gone on to be justices at various levels, from courts in a small county in Wisconsin all the way to the Supreme Court. When he opened it up, he was surprised to see an ink drawing of a thick wooden stick. It was signed by his friends, and accompanied by a note:
> Hey John, > > We're sorry to hear about your loss in court last month. We met up at a judge conference in the Davison Center, and we thought that we'd do something special for you. We met up in the Grapefruit Room and all worked together to draw this. We hope you enjoy it! > > Your friends
Now, John had been to D.C. a few times, and knew about the Davison Centre. It was renowned for its very offbeat architecture. The Grapefruit Room was one of the weirdest: it had been constructed by taking a world-record grapefruit, carving out the flesh, and preserving the rind. The result was a walk-in fruit, and it always smelled of citrus.
It took John a while to work out the significance of the gift, but when he realized it, he was overjoyed. His good friends had seen fit to grant him a stave judge-men penned in a peel.
First off, I'm new here. I've only been a dad for a few years but, I'm not sure i'll ever be able to top this and the circumstances of the set up were so chance and specific, I will never be able to use this again. This is what inspired me to seek you out and tell my story.
So, like most thanksgivings, we went to a relatives house and had very large but unusually early dinner. We went home and by nine or ten o'clock we had the little one off to sleep and my wife and I were getting hungry and wanted something simple. She asked for fast food and I was willing to oblige.
I drove to Taco Bell and it was closed. I called my wife, "sorry Taco Bell is closed. What do you want from BK?". I then drove to BK and discovered it was also closed. Called the wife "Sorry honey, BK is closed. What do you want from McDonald's?". You might see were this is going and, if you haven't already guessed it, Micky D's was closed too."Ok, I'm just going to the gas station. What do you want?" She asked for cheddar fries and I was willing to oblige. Got in side, no cheddar fries! I grab her funyuns. She like funyuns, it will be fine. As a joke (not the one we are leading up to) I called her on my way home and told her the gas station was closed too.
I got home, told her the truth about the gas station and gave her the back up back up back up back up back up plan bag of funyuns. She joked around about the number of times I had failed her in one outing (keep in mind, I had been giving her a hard time through this whole event) and then asked me for a soda from the fridge. So is This when the magic happened. I was opening the fridge when the gravity of the situation and what was at stake here suddenly struck me. I closed the fridge, got out a glass and filled it with water. I brought it back to her in the living room. She says "why did you bring me water?"
THE FRIDGE WAS CLOSED!
We were trying to remember who wrote The Fantasticks.
Dad: "Well, one of them was named Tom Jones. You can't forget that name."
Me: "Oh, I don't know, I'd say that's a pretty common name. I mean... it's not unusual."
A while ago I was sat down to dinner with my family, a delicious meal as it always is, ta very much Mum. Throughout dinner and the usual post-dinner chatter Dad had been muttering "My my myyyy Delilah..." to himself. Usually you can ignore a bit of a quiet singsong someone outside of a conversation is having to themselves but every 10-15 minutes he'd go "My my myyyy Delilah...". A good 2 hours after starting our dinner my sister feels the need to ask "Dad, why do you keep singing my my my delilah? Was there a song on the radio or something?". Dad gives a confused little look and goes "Hmmm? What? Oh dear oh dear oh dear... It's actually a medical problem. I went to the doctor about it recently" then raises his head trying to conceal that grin that we all know and dread. "He said I had Tom Jones Syndrome. I asked if it was common. He just shrugged and said it's not unusual". I gave him two thumbs up and a look of respect, most of the table gave a horrified groan. 2 Hours! the dedication on that man!
A man goes to see his Doctor “Doc” he says, “I’ve got a problem, every minute of every day, I’ve got that song Delilah running through my head! I catch myself humming it, and sometimes singing it in public places. My wife even says I sing it in my sleep, and it’s driving her nuts. What is the matter with me?”
The Doctor replies “well, it sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome to me”.
“Is it a rare disorder?”, the guy asks, to which the Doctor replies “Well, it’s not unusual…”
So my dad and I were going around the Hollywood walk of fame, and we saw Tom Jones's star. My dad is a big fan, so he took a picture of it, but there was dirt all over it, along with a bunch of the others around it. My dad said "Of course Tom Jones's star is the dirty one." And I said "no dad, that's not unusual," and I got a blank stare until he laughed and gave me a high five
Doctor: Sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome
Me: How common is that?
Doctor: It’s not unusual.
It's not unusual.
"is that common?"
It's not unusual
Doctor: Sounds like you might have Tom Jones syndrome.
Me: Is it common?
Doctor: It’s not unusual.
man: doc, i can't seem to get "green, green grass of home" out of my head.
doc: sounds like you have tom jones syndrome.
man: is it common?
doc: it's not unusual.
